


Beguiled

by Bremmatron33



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gift Fic, Heavy Petting, plug and play/sticky hybrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bremmatron33/pseuds/Bremmatron33
Summary: Knock Out came to Trauma, trusted him. He can only hope the poor bot will grow to trust him more.





	Beguiled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueskyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskyscribe/gifts).



> Eyo Blueskyscribe gave me permission to post this so now you all get to enjoy it if you want!

Knock Out had slept with a lot of mechs in the traditional sense and the Decepticon as well. Trauma, in fact, being one of the former. Knock Out could remember a time when they had snuck off after a grueling shift, hid in some alcove of some bombed out building, recharged back to back till some head medic was screaming their names thanks to a sudden new wave needing all servos on deck. Sometimes...Trauma forgot about his own back, his servos more interested in running along the lines of Knock Out’s. Back then it meant nothing and even still Knock Out believed it was. Afterall he was beautiful and Trauma was already in a bad way mentally, they all were so it wasn’t as if it was much worse than the average. He didn’t mind the touches, the long cold digits following his lines or dipping into his vents. Knock Out didn’t let it get very far he knew the mech better and he’d seen Trauma in “love” if one could call it such. He was never much of Knock Out’s type so it wasn’t a hard decision.

“Trauma” showed surprisingly similar characteristics. Greedy, rough, deprived, and possessive. Those things certainly translated differently but...they were there. More prevalent then Knock Out would have thought. He honestly couldn’t remember a time his fans had gone off before plates started separating but here he was, Trauma’s digits wandering over every bit of plating except where he wanted them. How in the Pit was he going to create a scandal if all the mech was going to give him was heavy petting!

Still….he couldn’t blame the aerial, this was his fantasy, a taboo fantasy that was likely the only action the poor medic had seen in eons save for his servo and the rare saved snapshot of his boss caught smiling he was sure. The synopses and title practically wrote themselves.The Darker Side of Love “When a hapless romantic medic Trauma runs across a sensual Autobot clone there are sparks at first sight. Only one problem, he looks exactly like Trauma’s boss!” Har, har har. Knock Out just forced his gaze to the ceiling as Trauma kissed over every inch of his plating, just trying to get lost in the heavy roar of the aerials engine, only meeting his gaze when he nipped at his neck cables, begging for another proper kiss. Knock Out gave him every. Single. One. He’d lost count as the hour turned to eleven, eleven turned to two.

“You are so- Beautiful~ I am sure that you know but…..it needs to be said.”

“You’ve said a dozen times, you must have really pegged my ego Doctor. Am I that transparent?” Knock Out could tell Trauma was trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to be nice, I’m asking.”

“Transparency is not…..you have learned to cope in unique ways. Your- pride- in yourself- is more- than deserved.” Trauma’s words were punctuated with a kiss to each of Knock Out’s knuckles. “More than understandable.” Knock Out could have made a chart of all the ways Trauma looked at him, long wanting body shots would have been the leading bar.

“Well….Trauma there are parts of me you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing yet. Aren’t you interested~?” Trauma’s blush turned his face a much darker purple, practically resetting the bot on his sloppy carnage of Knock Out’s finish as his kisses returned to Knock Out’s mouth. Knock Out could feel the tremble of the other mech's digits as they stroked along his jaw and fondled the exposed fans of his collar.

“I- We shouldn’t. I- you’re injured still...we didn’t even finish fixing you up.”

“It’s gone numb, as long as you’re careful-”

“Knock Out that’s not good! I’ve let this go too far, it’s already so late- Let me just-”

“Trauma... please.” Trauma was left speechless by how quietly Knock Out spoke the words, of how much it reminded him of Knockdown. He was left further stunned as Knock Out leaned up and wrapped his arms around his neck, the mech’s sharp claws so gentle and teasing, his grip so weak yet desperate, the warm air from his vents so close to his face. “Please, Trauma….you don’t know how dark the places my mind goes to...has gone to as of late I-” Trauma heard Knock Out’s vents hitch, felt the rush of air he needed to cool his frame. “I feel so worthless- _whh-eheh-eh_ \- Without Ultra Magnus...without Arcee….without my-” Knock Out held his stuttering breath for as long as he could stand, making sure to keep his voice soft, a slight tremble to seal the deal, “…..servitude.” Primus even Knock Out wanted to gag on his own slag but Trauma was more than enraptured, his gaze so soft, his kind lingering touch, back the mech waiting on baited breath in the hopes that Knock Out would continue. Just write the story Knock Out, keep writing the story and everything’s going to go just the way you like it. “I know it’s not- I know I’m asking too much but- Without them, without my…..vices….my….protection I-”

“Knock Out please,” Trauma’s caress was firmer now, his grip too as he pulled Knock Out closer to him. “You are safe here, you don’t need to feel that way.”

“I can’t help it. After everything- I just don’t listen to myself. Can’t you help me? Just this once?” Slowly Knock Out pecked kisses to Trauma’s cheeks, to the jet’s knuckles that were cradling his face. “You’re the only one I trust…..the only one I-” Knock Out’s digits slipped down Trauma’s chest, following the lines of his metal, they splayed out right where the mech’s spark was, Knock Out could feel it thudding through the metal. “You’re so handsome Trauma, so underappreciated, so….forgotten. They use you….and then that’s it. It all must seem so stagnant. This ship, this war,... this life.”

Trauma pulled Knock Out’s servo away from his chest and held it tightly in his own. “Is that why you do such silly dangerous things? You feel trapped? Stagnant?”

“I think you know the answer to that Doctor...but tell me I’m wrong.” Knock Out pressed a chaste kiss to Trauma’s jaw, pulled back, and waited for the other mech to kiss him. Trauma followed through like an actor reading a script. Knock Out almost felt bad but maybe it was just nerves, it had been forever, certainly forever since he’d done this sort of thing as a job. Were his firewalls up to date? Always. Were his cables perfect and unchipped from the last time Breakdown had tried to shove them in his ports in the frantic moments they’d snagged in tight closets or their recharge chamber? Likely but unnecessary, with the card he’d just played Trauma would be expecting nothing but bad treatment. He was so naive, so stupid. Did any self-righteous be they Auto or Deceptibot slagger not believe that the other side had feelings, couldn’t stop? Couldn’t care? Were they all that easily fooled by masks or….did they just let themselves be fooled? Knock Out tried not to let a stupid assumption of another mechs character get him riled. It _was_  
stupid and for all he knew, these Autobots could really be ruthless monsters. It was just a thought, but who could really be such a fucking slagger when they were sucking on hot valve?

Trauma answered by pawing at Knock Out’s grille, his novella knowledge giving him away. Only Seekers had their ports in their fronts, easy for multiple link ups for trines and squads. Knock Out pushed Trauma back a bit, dropped his servo to his codpiece and split it manually with his long digits. “The Bots…..they like to make a little more noise…...do things..”, snapping his interface paneling aside Knock Out was surprised Trauma hadn’t audibly gasped with how wide his optics had gone, how bright they were now. “A little more raw~ Why should the beastformers get all the fun huh~?”

Trauma’s servos shook visibly now as he watched thin red tracks and perfectly placed nodes of biolights flux in the shade of his room, only inches from him, the warmth from them tangible and tempting. Grounders were already such exotic mechs but this was insane. Knockdown certainly didn’t have this! None of his novels even mentioned such a scandalous idea as interface mods. “Knock Out I-”

“It might not be safe with your set up, a little tight, a little….rough. You don’t have to worry. They like convenience too.” Turning his frame a little to show off the back of his neck Knock Out’s talons pushed aside plating and thick cable to show off a traditional connecting port at the base. A less dramatic affair but….Primus, it was so small, Trauma could tell there wouldn’t be enough room for his pins. Not that it mattered connecting cables were designed for size difference but….Pit...the implications of it and the way it was perfectly placed at the end of a triangle of bright white plating…..it stirred something in Trauma he couldn’t explain.

It was in that moment though that Trauma understood Knock Out’s existence completely. Trauma could imagine mechs like Acrcee or Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus, even Prime himself getting tired of Ratchet’s care. Those Autobots used to such opulence and service that they wouldn’t dare let a maniac like Ratchet into their systems. A medic so selfish he wouldn’t even step out into the field to do his job without at least two bodyguards! So they trick the old mech. Likely already working on bringing Yellowjacket back to life for Prime who despite his mask had taken an obvious blow thanks to the mechs death, the others trick him into making another medic to do grunt work, just barely one step up from a Vehicon. Stuck dismantling their corpses and re-programming citizens all day for his bosses depraved plans, but behind the scenes, the others were reaping the benefits of the clone’s softer nature. Laughing behind Ratchet’s back as they indulged in Knockdown’s(Knock Out's) better temperament and care. It all made sense.

Knock Out could be so soft, so gentle, careful. Like he had been with his door, with the mentions of Breakline, like he was right now. The other members of team Prime would have been delighted to have such a gorgeous mech tending to them, to their _every_ whim. That wasn’t the end of their wants though. The Bots wanted these clones, wanted them to fight, to serve just as any Autobot would so they tried to toughen them up, teach them the Autobot way, thinking their treatment sound and perhaps it worked. Trauma had watched the tapes of the recent attack, Knock Out and Bumblebee fought, and they fought well. They even fought well together. In time perhaps Knock Out would have been better equipped, better valued than even Ratchet because he would be a field medic, a battle medic. Not only that despite their differences Knock Out moved like Knockdown, thought like Knockdown, and despite confirmation, Trauma believed he just knew Knockdown. Every aspect of him in some way and perhaps not even just him. He wasn’t forged to be just a clone….but a foil. Even knowing he was evil and looking a bit different Trauma knew no one, save perhaps for Lord Megatron himself, would have the spark to shoot Knock Out, his face, his voice, it was all too similar.

Even if they did, Knock Out was forged with battle armor. Knockdown hadn’t mentioned it in his report, likely just assuming it was how grounders were considering Breakline’s weight as his only real baseline but as sports cars, both him and Bumblebee were at least one hundred kilograms overweight. Ampule hadn’t just been rude when she said she thought grounders were lumpy, she was right. Bee and Knock Out despite their bared mid-riffs and sleek designs had their metal so layered and stuffed with hexolate kevlar that it was a wonder their transformations didn’t take hours packing it all away into their interiors.

It all stuck out like a sore thumb as he was fondling the mech, grille raised up at least a solid five inches to absorb body shots, wide close fitting shoulder pauldrons and a heavy rubber and kevlar cowl to reduce risk of headshots, wheels were poor placement but that was likely from just switching Knock Out from an aerial build to a grounder but even with all his wheels shot out Trauma had a feeling Knock Out could still run if he needed to. He was built to be sturdy.

It all just made sense.

Even their “Escape”. Ratchet, getting wise that Knock Out is getting a little too much attention from the team wants him gone, Smokescreen who is threatened by the return of the Autobots “goldenboy” happily takes the order to kill Knock Out if he can take Bee along with him. He tries his best to set them up for death but they get away. Perhaps Bee and Knock Out fight a bit, causing the strange tension between them, perhaps Knock Out gets injured and tries to heal himself or gets caught in a depressive spiral and decides it’s not worth it, believing he had no other option. Used, abandoned, forgotten. Just like how the Autobots treat the citizens.

Everything made sense.

“Oh sweet Primus!” Trauma had expected Knock Out to slip up eventually but certainly not this badly or soon.

Knock Out put on his best smile. That really wasn’t the tone of a mech who just saw a hot valve….sort of the tone of someone who realized they had left a bunsen burner on in a room full of sparklings. “See something you like?”

Trauma tried not to get too lost in his realization. Despite it’s ethicacy Knock Out felt like he needed this….this sort of attention….and Trauma couldn’t say he didn’t want to help despite his reasons being personal and a tad selfish. If this helped Knock Out feel better...it was harmless. Trauma trusted in his skills, he just needed to get close, to make Knock Out feel safe, then they could slowly move on to better methods…..besides…...in such a small community and no end to the war in sight did Knockdown really expect him to stay alone forever? Nearly all the Citizens and officers were his patients, was he the only one trapped to be limited to the dozen or so that weren’t? Knockdown had loved a patient, he’d been Breakline’s doctor far before his partner. “Yes Knock Out I must say you are strikingly unique.” Trauma watched Knock Out’s smile soften, the young mech was so perceptive, just one more thing he would have needed to live as a Bot. To one day kill and replace an unethical lunatic, to manipulate the enemy into trusting him, even as he ran a saw blade through their chest.

Trauma pulled Knock Out onto his lap, lifted one of the smaller mech’s legs over his shoulder to get better access, rested his head lightly against a knee guard as he looked down into the soft glow of red light. So tempting. “May I touch you here? With just my digits?” Knock Out sounded like he was trying to hold back a laugh. Trauma couldn’t help but smile despite his blush, yes he knew how...well new he sounded asking such questions to a poor clone who had just admitted to much worse….but they were still important.

“You can touch wherever you’d like Trauma if your digits can reach far enough.”

Primus Trauma gave up, he just gave up, Knock Out was too much. Truly too much car for him but that didn’t stop the other mech trying to hold on as well as he could. Parting his plating Trauma let one of his interface cables free, tugging a bit at it for the length before handing it off to Knock Out. Not the wisest decision because Knock Out had little interest in such a fast pace now that he knew he was going to get what he wanted but Primus was it worth it. Trauma watched Knock Out mouth at the pins of his cable, depressing them in a slow circle still the jet could feel a tingling charge in his spark and a wave churning in his tanks, it was almost like Knock Out emitted charge from everywhere. Almost reading his mind Knock Out stuck out his long glossia pressed down on his denta till Trauma could just see the faint red glow in his intake.

“Primus be~” Autobots were good for nothing murderers and needed their sparks separated from their frames for their own damn benefit as quick as could be but Pit if they weren’t geniuses when it came to depravity.

“It’s a shame you don’t have the right equipment but we’ll still have fun.”

“I hope I can ease your mind for a time.” Trauma did his best to ignore Knock Out’s teasing for teasing of his own. The smaller mechs main port calling him to be touched and explored. Primus be it was set so deep, the mesh channel tight and pulsing and coated with a warm fragrant oil. Trauma found himself busy as he snuck a digit inside, felt along the warm mesh for buried circuit bundles and nodes, strained his digits to just brush against the hidden port. Knock Out jittered and bucked as Trauma managed to depress some of the pins on the outer ring. A feature made for mechs with bigger partners for equal charge transfer. Trauma couldn’t help but imagine, Bulkhead or Ultra Magnus grabbing Knock Out by his middle, using him like a toy, denting his poor frame till the poor thing was whimpering in pain. His thoughts must have shown on his face.

“Don’t think about that.” Trauma lifted his gaze, an embarrassed smile on his lips. He watched Knock Out carefully pull the cords of his neck back and hook himself up, the other mech's gaze right at his own despite still being dim. Maybe the bright lights of the Heretic were still too harsh for him. “Just think about us. Tell me all the naughty things you’d do to me if you could, that you want to do to me right now?” Trauma shivered from the connection establishing and from the other mechs demands. He was such a strange mech, truly unique despite his origin. Despite how terrible it sounded Trauma was glad for Ratchet’s cruelty, Smokescreens grotesque pride because if Knock Out had stayed he surely would have made one horrifying weapon.

“Alright, I’d be happy to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
